Rooftop
by Black-Neko-Chan
Summary: Was it the rooftop or the person that he would see there that he needed? BakuraxMarik Summary kinda sucks, but hey, go read it.


Yes! It's finally done! Ugh, this thing has been a monster! 30 pages people! For just a oneshot! And not only that, but I've gone over this thing twice to make sure that everything is perfect, so I swear, if someone finds a mistake I will have a breakdown. Heh, I usually only do one comb through to see if I find mistakes, and it's never as critical as my two edits for this have been. I swear, it took me as long to edit this as it did to write the darn thing. But ahh, I luves it dearly. So yay, please love my uber long oneshot!

**Disclaimer!: **Black-Neko-Chan does not own Yu-Gi-Oh! Although she would dearly like to, unfortunately she does not have enough money to buy the rights for it. But don't worry, she is hard at work on that. Feel free to donate! XD

Oh, one more little note. When you read that little bit about football in here, I mean soccer. Because you know, us Americans are the only ones that call it soccer, and to everyone else it's football. So don't be confused by that.

* * *

"You get back here _this instant_ Marik Ishtar! I haven't finished talking to you yet!"

"Yeah well I'm finished!"

"Where do you think you're going?!"

"Out!"

Marik slammed the door shut behind him, half-hoping to break the damn thing off its hinges. The windows rattled and something in the house smashed to pieces. He hoped it was Isis's expensive blue vase. If it was of course he'd get yelled at again when he came back, but right now he really could care less about that. Right now he just wanted to be the cause of even more of his sister's anger.

A little girl ran into him as he walked away from his house. She'd been running away from three other children and of course not looking where she was going. "Get out of here!" Marik snarled to all of them. The four children ran away, the little girl with tears in her big crystalline eyes and going off to run to mommy. Marik pulled his coat tighter around his lithe body to block out the cold and stomped off before he could get yelled at again.

"Stupid Isis. Stupid Rishid. What the hell do they know anyway?" Marik demanded under his breath. He had known when he told Isis she would get pissed off like always, but he hadn't been expecting Rishid to agree with her and go up against him. Rishid generally didn't like to get into their arguments, but on the rare occasions when he did it was usually to join Marik's side. But not his time. This time Rishid had stabbed him in the back and joined up with Isis to yell at him.

And it was so damn stupid too! So what if he'd gotten kicked off the football team for fighting? So what if his grades were slipping a little? It wasn't Isis or Rishid's life, it was his and he could damn well do what he'd like! Marik was seventeen now and it wouldn't be too much longer before he turned eighteen. He was a little bit past the stage where he still needed, or even listened to, the advice of his older brother and sister.

He didn't need their self-righteous shit and had told them that directly to their faces. That was what had started the yelling. Isis had basically shouted at Marik that yes, he did need their shit because on his own he was obviously fucking his life up. Rishid had agreed with her in nicer terms and then Marik had yelled at him for his betrayal and things afterwards had gotten quickly out of hand. Isis had said some things she would regret when he came back and Marik had said a lot of things he knew he wouldn't even once he had calmed down.

In his anger Marik had walked far away from his house and into the main shopping area of Domino city. For the first time since he'd left he took notice of where he was, and felt his anger fade and his curiosity peak. He was standing in front of what looked like an abandoned store. The area of Domino he found himself in was where the popular shops everyone went to were located, so he wondered what had caused this one to shut down. It wouldn't have been lack of funds, so it must have been the result of some other reason.

He was about to leave and go elsewhere when something on the roof of the building caught his's eye. Something white, and flapping in the wind. It was probably something stupid like a plastic bag someone hadn't thrown away and had gotten caught on something. Or maybe it was the wing of a big white bird ready to take off in flight. Whatever the white object was, it fascinated Marik for some reason and he felt a strong urge to find out exactly what it was. He wondered if there was any way to get onto the roof.

With a quick look around to see if anyone would notice what he was doing (not that he thought anyone would -they were all too busy with their own lives to notice him- but he figured he should still check, as what he was doing was probably illegal), Marik snuck into the space between the abandoned building and the one to its left and headed around the back. He didn't know what exactly he thought would be back here, but was pleasantly surprised to find a ladder leaning against the back of the building and leading up to the roof. Evidently he hadn't been the only one who'd wanted to come back here. Maybe the white thing had been left by one of the previous visitors to the roof.

Marik grabbed onto the ladder and began to climb up it. He half-expected the ladder to topple over and send him flying to the ground with some sort of grievous injury, but no such thing ever happened. The ladder was extremely steady, and Marik absentmindedly wondered how long it had been there.

He swung over the ledge around the roof and onto the roof itself. He took a few steps and his violet eyes immediately found what the white object was.

A teenager looking to be about Marik's age was standing on the roof of the abandoned building, looking over the ledge at the people walking underneath on the sidewalk. The teen's hair, which Marik could see was actually silver instead of the white he'd taken it to be, was what had caught his eye in the first place. It came down to the person's back in long, wild spikes that blew in the wind, making it impossible for Marik to guess a gender. The teen wore a blue and white stripped shirt with short sleeves and tight blue jeans.

The teen turned around when Marik took a step forward and he saw that his companion was a male. Brown eyes locked with purple for a moment and the teen smirked.

"Well what do you know? I wasn't expecting company on such a chilly day," He said. His voice was deep and rough with an air of cocky mischievousness lacing it. As if to prove his words as true the wind picked up and blew harder. Marik shivered and pulled his coat closer. He wondered if the other teen was cold. He only had on that shirt. Maybe that was the reason behind his unnaturally pale skin.

"What are you doing?" Marik asked. The teen was clutching something in his hand, and when Marik mentioned it his smirk only grew wider.

"Throwing rocks at the passerbys underneath me. Care to join?" He asked with mock courtesy.

"Sure. Not like I have anything else to do," Marik shrugged. He headed over to the side of the teen, who handed him an egg-sized rock with a malicious grin. The two of them stood peering over the ledge at the blissfully unsuspecting people strolling along the sidewalk.

"There," The pale teen said. Marik followed his pointing finger to a plump woman in a hideous green coat with a matching, equally hideous green hat carrying a bag from some store.

"Got it," Marik said. They counted to three and let loose their rocks. The teen's hit the bag she was carrying dead center, almost certainly breaking whatever was inside. Marik's hit the green hat and knocked it clean off the woman's head and into the street. It only got better when seconds after a car drove over it.

Both boys burst out laughing and quickly dropped to the floor with their backs against the ledge so they wouldn't be caught. Behind them on the sidewalk they could hear the woman shrieking about her hat and bag and demanding to know what had happened and who was responsible, which only caused them to laugh even more insanely. Cautiously they peered over the edge of the ledge and watched the woman as she grabbed random people and demanded to know if they had done it. Evidently the ugly hat and whatever had been in the bag had been worth big bucks at one time. Well, not anymore.

One of the random passerbys must have had enough brains to call someone to stop the plump woman from harassing more people, for not too long after the tragic death of the hat and bag two policemen came by to stop the mayhem the two teenagers on the roof had caused. They took her to the car and got her to sit inside by telling her they would drive her down to the station and file a report about what had happened, and then they could try and find who was responsible for it. The car drove away and the two teenagers burst into mad laughter again.

"Oh man! Did you see her face?! She was livid!" Marik exclaimed.

"I know! And those people she plucked off the streets! They had no idea what the hell she was talking about! Oh, we've got to do another one! Let's go after a little kid this time!" The teen at his side suggested evilly. Marik smirked and they began scouting.

There were two little kids that Marik would see, both boys. One of them was munching happily on a cheeseburger in front of his mom, the other was screaming and wailing to get out of his parent's grasp. His arms had been retained by his parents so he couldn't run away. He kept periodically kicking at their ankles and screaming his lungs out. His parents were both rubbing their foreheads and the people on the sidewalk around them stayed at least ten feet away. Marik immediately targeted him.

"How about that one?" Marik asked, pointing at his child of choice. The silver-haired teen took one look and shook his head.

"Nah. You've got good aim but bad taste in picking out candidates. That kid's already making himself and everyone around him miserable. He's doing our job for us. We need to set our sights on the other one. He's happy and I won't allow for that," He explained.

"Okay, I understand that," Marik said.

"Good. Glad to see we're in agreement. Now we can make this kid miserable. I'm going to knock that sandwich out of his hands," The teen smirked.

"Not if I do first," Marik grinned. The other teen raised an eyebrow.

"So it's a bet now? Okay, just prepare yourself to lose," He said casually. Marik rolled his eyes.

"As if," He replied. The two counted again to three and threw their rocks. Marik's soared through the air like it had been shot out of a cannon, and came to a stop smack in the middle of where the little boy's cheeseburger would have been if his companion's had not already gotten there first and knocked it straight out of the boy's grubby little hands.

The small boy stared at the space where his cheeseburger had been, then to where it now lay at his feet with a rock protruding out of it, and back to his now empty hands. Slowly, his happy face fell and he at once burst out crying. The mother asked him what was wrong , then saw the fallen sandwich and tried to comfort him.

Marik's companion and the victor of their little bet began to laugh again as he leaned against the ledge. Marik frowned. It was funny, but he had lost. He didn't like losing. Especially not at things he knew he could win and should have been able to if only his rock had been a bit faster.

"Aw, not fun being the loser is it?" The other teen questioned when his laughter had subsided.

"Shut up. If we did it again I'd beat you," Marik said darkly.

"Maybe, but that doesn't really matter now. So, why did you come up here?" The teen asked. He didn't lose his good humor, but he did sound more serious than Marik had heard yet. His brown eyes no longer sparkled with mischievousness, but now with curiosity.

"Why should I tell you? I don't even know you," Marik scoffed.

"Doesn't matter. Guess you shouldn't have taken that bet then. But you did and you lost, so now you get to spill your guts." Marik frowned. Of course. If he'd known this have would happen, he would never have taken that stupid bet. He could leave the roof and evade answering completely, unless the pale teen was so determined to know the answer that he chased after him, but Marik wasn't a coward. He didn't run away from anything, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now just because he got asked an uncomfortable question.

"I was having a fight with my sister and brother and I needed to get out of there. I started walking and found myself in front of this building. I was looking at it and caught a glimpse of your hair and decided to see if there was any way I could get up here to see what it was," Marik answered.

"Really?" The teen questioned with interest. "What were you fighting about?"

"I already answered your question," Marik said stubbornly.

"Yes you did, but that's not how this game works. You have to spill it all, not just a little bit. Confess to me your darkest desires," The other teen insisted, grinning. The wind picked up and blew both teenager's hair in their faces and scattered leaves around them. Marik pulled his coat closer to his body and again wondered why the pale teenager was seemingly unbothered by the cold temperatures. The wind died down with a mournful howl.

"You've got leaves in your hair," His companion pointed out, chuckling. Marik scowled.

"So do you," He snapped and grabbed at his long tresses. How dare something as disgusting as a dead leaf get caught up in his perfect golden hair?! The wind had tangled the leaf up in the hair at the back of his head and had tangled it well. Without a mirror to help him out all it seemed Marik could do was worsen the problem and break the leaf into several smaller pieces.

"Need help?" Before Marik could respond he felt a freezing cold hand brush against his own, which he quickly pulled away as a shiver ran down his spine. In front of Marik's face he could see only the blue and white stripped shirt the teen with the silver hair wore as he leaned over to help remove the offending leaf. Cold seemed to emit from the teen's body, and Marik marveled that he wasn't trembling with how cold he must have been.

Long fingers removed the leaf pieces and gently undid the tangles Marik himself had created, and then the teen had moved away and was sitting in front of Marik with a lazy smirk lingering on his lips like he'd never moved from this spot in the first place. Marik blinked, then flushed slightly as he realized this guy he hardly knew had just untangled his hair for him.

"You've still got leaves in your hair," Marik stated as he caught a flash of brown among all that silver, still a bit embarrassed by recent actions and trying to cover it. He didn't make a habit out of letting other people touch him, much less have them gently remove leaves from his hair, but he didn't want the other teen to know of his embarrassment for some reason.

"I know. I think it makes me look dashing," The other teen smirked. He brought a hand to his chin and posed seductively. Marik just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure you do. Now do you want me to tell you what I was fighting about or not?" He asked with mock annoyance.

"Of course," His companion replied. He dropped the pose and sat there eagerly, reminding Marik of a little child waiting to hear a fairytale. He almost smiled, then shook his head to stop it from showing on his face and launched into his explanation.

And so Marik told this person he'd known for little over an hour now how Isis had gotten a call from his football coach to inform her that he'd been caught fighting with another teammate and had been kicked off the team for it, and how when Marik had come home from school she'd wanted to know why he'd done it, and that was what had begun the argument. He explained how when he had tried to explain the reason for why he'd hit the other player she didn't listen at all, and then Rishid had stuck up for her and betrayed him. Then he explained how the subject had gotten changed to his dropping grades, and how he had lost it. He had just needed to get out of the house and go somewhere to cool off.

Marik told all of this to the person he had just met today, and then he had left the other on the roof, saying that no doubt Isis would be worried about there he'd gone and he should be going home. The pale teen with the silver hair and brown eyes had understood and said they would maybe meet again. Marik had agreed while silently thinking it was unlikely that they would, and then had departed.

It wasn't until later at night as he lied in his bed looking up at the cloud obscured moon after an uncomfortably silent dinner with Isis and Rishid that Marik realized he had effectively spilt his guts to a complete stranger ...and had felt much better afterwards. It wasn't just that he had told someone about the fight, or that someone had listened. He could have nabbed any stranger off the streets and told them the same thing and it wouldn't have mattered. He wouldn't have felt any different, and he actually would have gotten pissed off at the person for trying to learn his business. But with the teenager on the rooftop... things had been different.

00000

He had tried to stay calm. He had tried to talk this out and explain his side of the story as rationally as he could without yelling and without becoming angry. He really had tried to. But it was so damn infuriating!

"We have to talk about this sometime Marik! For the past two weeks Rishid and I have been tiptoeing around you as to not set you off again and have been ignoring this issue altogether, and I'm not going to do it anymore! I had hoped that maybe if I stopped pestering you about it things would get better, but now I get a call from the principal saying you almost got into another fight! He's thinking about suspending you! What's going on Marik?!" Isis demanded.

"Nothing Isis! Nothing at all! I don't want to talk about it, so nothing is going on! Nothing's wrong!" Marik yelled.

"You've been saying that nothing is wrong and things have only been getting worse, so obviously something must be! Why can't you just tell me Marik?!" Isis cried, exasperated. She ran a hand through her thick ebony locks and looked him straight in the eye with accusing hard blue orbs. Marik clenched his fist. He was only dimly aware of the skin on his palm breaking as he grew all the more furious.

"Your sister is right Marik. Just tell us what's wrong and we'll help you," Rishid soothed. He came close to Marik and tried to put a hand on his shoulder but Marik jerked away. His normally bright lilac eyes burned a dark purple with a terrible fury. How stupid they could be! They couldn't help him and were fools to think that they could!

"Oh yes, I'm sure you'd love to help me wouldn't you?" Marik spat bitterly, "At least that's what you say now. But I know better than that. Neither of you really care, you're just playing the part of the concerned older brother and sister. Well I don't want to play. I'm leaving." Isis bolted from her seat and marched across the room to Marik.

"You can't just run away Marik! We have to get to the bottom of this!" She shouted.

"_Watch me_," Marik said darkly, and before either of his siblings could stop him had grabbed his black coat and was out the door. He stormed angrily away from his house and to the main area of Domino. He felt the urge to go to the roof of that abandoned building again. He had calmed down the first time after going there, so now he would go again.

It seemed like mere minutes had passed until Marik once again found himself standing in front of the ladder leading up to the roof of the building. Without a second thought Marik climbed up it. A gust of wind blew his hair back and his coat open, but it felt good instead of freezing. He felt liberated up here, like he was free.

"So we meet again." Marik opened his eyes, unaware that he had even closed them, and noted with no surprise that the pale teen from last time was up here again, still inappropriately dressed for the nippy weather in the same blue and white stripped shirt as before. Somehow Marik felt like he had known the other would be up here. It was only his second time visiting the rooftop, but already it felt like the presence of the other was necessary, and that things would be incomplete without him.

The other teen was leaning against the wall of a small square building that Marik guessed sheltered a stairwell used to get down to the main floor of the store from the roof. Those russet orbs were not turned towards him but were watching the sun set over Domino. His stance seemed to exude an elegant gracefulness, and the shine of the setting sun set his hair ablaze, causing it to sparkle and shine as if it were truly spun of silver. All at once he seemed less like a person and more like some kind of extraordinary creature that only Marik had been blessed with knowing.

He shook his head with a distasteful frown. What stupid thoughts he'd been having. This was no special rare creature, just some dumb teenager who obviously had a death wish, dressed like this in such cold weather. Sure, winter was nearing its end and spring was just around the corner, but that still didn't merit going outside dressed like that.

"It appears so," Marik said harshly. At the tone of the voice the other teen gave him a questioning sideways glance.

"My stupid siblings are fighting with me again," Marik explained shortly.

"Come watch the sunset with me," The teen said. Marik complied, and came to stand by his side as the dying rays of the sun painted the sky in brilliant hues of goldenrod, marigold, orange, and hazy pinks. It had a calming effect on him, which he found strange. For some reason Marik didn't feel angry anymore, not like he had earlier anyways. The fight with Isis and Rishid just seemed stupid.

"You know, I've been told that talking can help things. I'm not what you would call a good listener, but I'm sure it wouldn't hurt," His companion said. He had taken his eyes off the brilliant spectacle and was looking at him. Marik felt himself smile.

"I might as well. Not like I've got anything to lose by trying, and maybe it will help," He agreed. He lapsed into silence for a moment and merely watched the sunset as he wondered where to begin. He wouldn't tell the teen everything, even if being in his presence did make him feel comforted and as if he should. This was only his second time seeing the other teenager and he didn't want to pour his soul out for the other to see. He decided to just talk about what the most recent fight had been over.

"I've been getting into a lot of fights lately," Marik began, knowing that even thought those beautiful eyes were no longer on him, the one to whom they belonged was listening intently, "and not just fights at home. Ones at school too. Lately everyone seems to just be pissing me off.

"I got kicked off the football team because I got into a fight. I told you that already, didn't I? Right. So I was about to get into another fight today but the security guards broke it up before it could go anywhere. Well I guess the principal decided to give Isis a call and informed her about this, so when I returned home from school she wanted to have a talk with me about it." Marik paused his story. The sun was barely visible now, and the night was starting to reclaim the sky and blacken its fading rays. He couldn't be out here for too long or he'd be in even more trouble when he returned home for breaking his curfew. Strangely, he felt saddened to think that he would have to leave.

"My mother died a while back, and my father just recently. Rishid is our adopted brother and the oldest. When my father was still alive it was his job to look after Isis and I, so he naturally took over as a parent figure once father was gone. Isis felt like she too should become more responsible so she took on a similar role. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself and they know it, but both of them, especially Isis, feel like they need to watch over me and make sure I'm safe, or okay, and not getting into trouble or doing anything wrong or bad. It's maddening! They don't even want to, and I know they don't, but they've got some stupid complex where they believe that they _need_ to watch over me or they'll be these huge disappointments and I'll turn out horrible and be ruined forever!" Marik ranted. He was getting pissed off all over again, and this time Isis wasn't even here. It seemed just the thought of how she acted was enough to infuriate him.

"Why don't we sit and take a break? The sun's down now anyways," The other teen suggested. Marik nodded, not trusting himself to speak and say something harsh. It was weird, but he didn't want this strange, pale teenager with the wild silver hair to be angry at him or upset, and he knew that if he opened his big mouth he would say something stupid and ruin everything.

Both teens sat against the ledge. Marik pulled his legs up to his chest and let his head sink back to look at the sky with a sigh. Ever so slowly it was turning a dark royal blue. In the east it was already beginning to look black. Soon the stars would be out. He shivered as the wind picked up and hugged his knees closer to his body.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked the teen beside him. He raised his silver-haired head and smirked at Marik.

"I never get cold," He said. On impulse Marik placed one of his own bronze hands on his companion's pale white one and shivered. The other teen's hand was freezing, just like it had been when their hands had accidently brushed when he'd been helping to get the leaf out of Marik's hair.

"You're freezing! Do you want my coat?" He asked. The other teen only laughed and shook his head.

"Nah, then you'd freeze. Why don't you continue?" He said, his smirk fading into a lopsided grin. It was... cute. Marik nodded. He felt calmer now, so it would be as good a time as any to continue. He kept his grip on his companion's hand and told himself it was because he wanted to give the other some measure of warmth.

"Well anyways, Isis decided it was her duty to ask me why I almost got into another fight. And I told her that it wasn't important, and that's what made her start yelling. I started yelling back at her and Rishid had to intervene before we killed each other. He got us to calm down and at least argue civilly, but that peace didn't last for too long before we were yelling again and I left. She kept asking about my grades and why I was getting into fights and not paying attention in school, and why I had allowed myself to get kicked off the football team. I didn't want to hear it. Why should I bother answering her when she doesn't even care? So I left," Marik finished.

"You going to tell me why you're doing bad in school and getting into fights?" The silver-haired teen asked. Marik grinned.

"Nope. Gotta keep an air of mystery about myself, otherwise I'd cease to be interesting," He joked. The other teen looked at him oddly for a moment, then laughed.

"I don't think you could cease to be interesting. You're probably the most interesting person I've met so far," He said. Marik's eyes widened in mock surprise and he pretended to look away as if flattered.

"Oh, I'm sure you say that to everyone you meet on this roof!" He exclaimed.

"Maybe," The other teen chuckled darkly, voice becoming suggestive and mischievous. Those brown eyes had a certain manipulative glint to them and the smirk that came to his lips was entirely appealing. "Or maybe you're just special." Marik's fake surprise was replaced with the real emotion and his grin slowly dropped. A shiver ran down his spine and this had nothing to do with the cold air. For a moment his mind was blank and he just stared at the teen across from him. Then his brain jumpstarted and he realized what he was doing and blushed.

"Well what about you? You're certainly interesting," Marik said quickly. Maybe he could turn the tables around.

"Well of course I am," the teen responded. Marik raised an eyebrow.

"Not very humble are we?" He inquired.

"I don't event think that word is in my vocabulary."

Marik chuckled and looked up at the sky. Thousands of stars dotted the black sky like pinpricks of light in black satin. The crescent moon provided enough light to see reasonablely well. He moved his head a little to see his companion mirroring his actions and gazing at the sky. The moonlight made his pale skin luminescent and gave to him a ethereal unworldly appearance. With his silver hair and creamy white skin he almost looked like some sort of angel fallen from heaven.

"I have to go now." He didn't want to leave. The wind had subsided and the rooftop out here under the stars was so much more peaceful than Marik knew his own home would be. But if he stayed out past his curfew Isis might do something unbelievably stupid like call the police.

"I suppose you do." He was still looking up at the sky, so Marik couldn't see the face of his companion or the emotion on it, but his tone sounded wistful or sad. This made Marik want to leave even less.

"Yeah. I guess you should be going soon too," Marik said in attempted cheerfulness.

"I think I'm going to stay a bit longer," The other said.

Marik glance down at their hands, which were still entwined together. He pulled his hand away and was startled to find that it was almost numb with cold. He shook the thought away and stood up uncertainly. The other teen remained sitting and not looking at him. Suddenly Marik got an idea.

"Hey! It'll take away some of my mystery, but my name is Marik!" He said and felt incredibly stupid and childish for just blurting it out like that, but as his companion turned around and smirked at him he felt like it was all worth it.

"Bakura. My name is Bakura," He said. Marik smiled.

00000

Winter gave up its last holds on the weather and allowed spring to come. The weather became warmer and the trees and flowers began to grow and bloom. All around people had caught spring fever and grew happy now that the dregs of winter were over. Marik still got into fights with Isis and at school, and his grades were still not what could be considered as good. He visited the rooftop of the abandoned building everyday, much to the displeasure of his sister. She complained that he was never at the house anymore, and he agreed wholeheartedly. It was one of the few things they did agree on nowadays. Marik spent as much time as he could away from the house and on the rooftop with his friend Bakura.

"You got into another fight."

Not a question. The very moment Marik had climbed onto the rooftop Bakura had seen the large bruise on Marik's cheek from earlier today. He hadn't been trying to hide it or anything, but Marik couldn't help but flush under Bakura's scrutinizing look.

"Yeah. Some asshole thought he was better than me and I had to prove him otherwise," Marik commented casually. He headed over to Bakura, who after a moment of silent contemplation grinned at him, and then stretched leisurely in the air.

"Your sister will be angry."

"Yeah, but she's always angry, so what's new?"

"Well did you beat him at least?"

"'Course I did! What sort of a loser do you take me for?!" Marik cried out indignantly. His companion smirked that creepy yet somehow alluring smirk and chuckled lowly.

"Well you look and dress like a pansy, so I just assumed you'd fight like one also," He said smugly, sounding amused.

"At least I don't wear the same shirt ever day of my life," Marik teased.

"Ah! I feel so insulted! I'll have you know that this is my favorite shirt!" Bakura exclaimed. The two laughed, then settled into a comfortable silence. Marik's gaze swept across the city of Domino beneath him and he took in a big breath of air. He felt so relaxed when he was up here with Bakura. It was as if the other teen was some type of calming drug and he couldn't get enough of it.

Marik shivered as he felt Bakura's icy fingertips lightly run across the bruise on his cheek. Even though it was no longer cold outside, his friend's touch was still always freezing. Marik winced as those cold fingertips prod a particularly painful spot on the bruise.

"You should get that checked out," Bakura murmured silkily.

"Isis will look at it when I go home," Marik answered softly.

"Maybe you should go home now. It's really swollen."

"No. I want to stay here longer with you." Their voices had become quiet whispers at this point as each captivated the other and brought them closer together involuntarily, as if in a trance. As Bakura stepped in front of him Marik realized that the teen with the beautiful silver hair was taller than him. He would have to lean up if he wanted to... Wanted to what? His brain felt sluggish, like it was wading through a pond and hadn't quite caught up to the actions of his body.

Bakura was leaning ever closer to him and looking down at him with glazed over brown eyes. Marik absentmindedly wondered if his own would look the same way. His companion placed one pale hand beside Marik's head, palm against the square building he'd been standing against. The other hand boldly, yet softly, he put on Marik's injured cheek, and lightly twisted the golden strands of hair from the fringe of his bangs around his fingers. The startling contrast between the rising heat Marik felt on his cheeks and that icy hand elicited a small gasp from his parted lips. Likewise, he could feel cold emanating from the body so close to his own. Marik's own body felt hot and the clash of warring temperatures excited him.

Without realizing what he was doing, Marik felt himself lean into Bakura's touch. They slowly came closer, until hardly two inches separated them. Then, an unidentified look passed in Bakura's deep russet eyes and he pulled away. Just as suddenly Marik's head cleared and he felt confused. What exactly had just happened? He had thought... He shook his head.

"That was strange," He joked awkwardly. What had he been about to do? That moment right there... it had been like he was about to kiss Bakura. Ha, what a funny thought! Why would he do that? Maybe he was catching something. His head did feel strange. Dizzy maybe.

"Umm... Bakura?" Marik questioned.

"What?" The other teen practically snarled. Marik was taken aback. He knew that Bakura had strange mood swings, but this was the first time he'd heard him like this. Marik had heard Bakura angry before, but that anger had never once before been directed at him. Marik wondered what he had done wrong. He really hadn't even done anything. Bakura had been the one moving... and touching him.

"I think I will be going after all. Just wanted to tell you," Marik said quickly. He tried to keep any emotion from entering his voice but Bakura looked up sharply. Some of the hurt he felt must have come out then.

"Marik, I didn't mean to be angry at you. It's just... Damn!" Bakura swore bitterly. He threw his fist into the side of the square building. Surprisingly, it didn't dent.

"No, I just need to leave. I'll... see you tomorrow," Marik said. Before the other teenager could object further to his departure he was already going down the ladder. He knew Bakura wouldn't follow him. He never did.

His head hurt. It felt like a sledgehammer was pounding away at his skull. Marik felt confused. Confused by what had just occurred and by what he himself felt. And what he felt he didn't know.

00000

He needed to go to the roof. He needed to see Bakura. And he needed to get away from that fucking house! Those fucking idiots...! Didn't they have the slightest clue?!

Marik ran to the abandoned building. He didn't care if he looked stupid, or who saw him. He didn't stop once, not even to wait to cross the road, and almost got himself hit by a car because of that carelessness. It didn't bother him. He almost wished that he had been. It would have made things so much _easier_ then.

His head was pounding and he felt furious. He wished someone would provoke him, that way he could bash their fucking heads in. He needed to get to the roof. Even in the furious, maddened state he found himself in he knew that. The roof had some sort of special calming effect on him. The roof and Bakura. Ad he needed to calm himself before he did something stupid.

Marik reached the roof and stormed up the ladder. He immediately noticed that Bakura was already up there. He wasn't surprised by this. Bakura was always here. Sometimes he wondered if the other teen ever went home.

He stomped off to the ledge of the roof and sat on the ground against it. He pulled his knees up and placed his hands over his face. "Don't talk," He commanded sharply to Bakura. If the silver-haired teen had been going to say anything he kept his mouth shut and joined Marik on the floor. The ever-constant familiar cold emanating from his form gave Marik some measure of comfort, but far from enough to calm him.

The sat quietly together for some time, and Marik felt his anger ebb away. Somehow, being here on this roof with Bakura always calmed him down. He didn't know what he would have done today if he had never found this place. He suspected that whatever it may have been, the day would have ended with him in a jail cell for some reason or another.

"So, was it a bad one this time?" Bakura questioned at his side. He was talking about the fight of course, but Marik decided to play dumb and not respond. At the mere mention of it he felt his temper spark up again and he didn't want to say or do something he would later regret.

"Not going to talk again then? That seems to be a reoccurring theme with you, eh Ishtar?" Bakura commented.

"Why don't you just shut the hell up Bakura? What the fuck would you know anyways?" Marik spat viciously before he could stop himself. He had raised his head from his palms and was glaring at the one person he considered to be his friend with deathly cold, harsh, dark purple eyes.

"I know a hell of a lot more than you think I do Marik," Bakura retorted, smirking bitterly.

"Oh yeah?" Marik barked, "Then why don't you share your story for once?"

"I'm not the one who needs to," Bakura replied scathingly. Marik's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"And you think I do?!" He yelled, climbing to his feet. The silver-haired teen stood also, facing opposite him.

"I do actually," He responded in a chillingly calm voice. His usually impish attitude was gone and his mischievous brown eyes now looked like hard granite. "I do because I'm not the one who comes up to this roof every single day pissed off or with bruises on my body because I got into a fight. That's you. And yeah, if something is so wrong that it angers you this much every single day Marik, you need to talk about it."

"And what if I don't want to? You going to make me? Will you tie me up and keep me here until I confess everything Bakura?" Marik taunted viciously in a sing-song voice.

"No. Just don't ever come up here again." He meant it. Marik could tell that right away. After all the time they had spent together, Bakura really meant that if Marik didn't tell him what was wrong this instant they would never see each other again. And Marik knew that they wouldn't. There would be no chance meetings in the streets or at stores. That would be it. This rooftop was the only thing they had in common. If Marik left, even if he came back he knew he would not see Bakura. He had known that if he spoke while angry he would say something stupid and ruin everything, and now he had. Now Marik had to choose between two things: Bakura, or divulging his secret.

"Dammit!" He swore bitterly. He glared at Bakura. "That's not fair."

"Life's not fair," Bakura answered back, just as bitterly and with more venom. With one more death glare directed in his supposed friend's way, Marik turned his back on him and began to pace the rooftop animatedly.

He wanted to just leave. His problems weren't any of Bakura's business and the other had no right to butt into them and force him to expose those problems. But every time he neared the ladder that would lead him away from this uncomfortable situation he stopped and moved no further. No, Marik was by no means a coward, but even he had his limits to what he would face, and this monster of a question was one of those rare things he would rather run away from. But every time he moved to he couldn't. He liked being up here with Bakura, and he didn't want to give that up. So...

"Fine," Marik said reluctantly, "you win. You want to know, I'll tell you."

"You'll thank me eventually," Bakura said.

"I doubt it," Marik glared darkly. He continued his rapid pacing. He was stuck. He didn't want to leave Bakura, but he really didn't want to have to explain himself. But now he had said that he would, and unless he were to leave this moment he would have to.

"It's all because of my father," Marik began. "He died not too long ago. I told you that already. He died and I was happy. The man was an abusive bastard. After our mother died he drank all the time and smacked Rishid and I around. I've got scars all over my back from him. He liked to throw his empty bottles and cans at me when I was younger and couldn't defend myself. He left Isis alone because she looked like our mother.

"He finally died from primary liver cancer. That was the happiest day of my life. Things had already been so much better at home when he was in the hospital, and I had figured that since he was finally dead they would only get better," Marik said.

He could feel Bakura's eyes on him, watching him intently, and he loathed him for making him tell all this. He disliked talking about his father, and about how much he hated him. When he did people couldn't understand his hatred, and they looked at him strangely and wondered how it was that he could despise his own father so much. He hated that. He wondered what he would see if he looked up, if it would be Bakura looking at him with that same expression on his face. If Bakura would also be unable to understand. As much as he hated Bakura at this moment for making he do this, Marik didn't look at him. He didn't want to see that puzzled, perplexed expression on Bakura's face, of all people. He wouldn't be able to continue if he did. So Marik kept his lilac eyes focused on the square of roof at his feet.

"He died and we had the funeral and all three of us were sad and pitiful like we were supposed to be. But for me that was all an act. I've always been very good at acting. On the inside I was screaming for joy and would have been on the outside too, would have gone up to the coffin and spat on the old bastard's face if it wouldn't have embarrassed Isis. So I played the part that was meant for me and acted like I should the whole time, and then went home after it was all over and everyone had left and for the first time since my mother had died I was truly happy.

"I figured that everyone else would be happy also," Marik said sarcastically, "but I was wrong. After the funeral I stopped acting, but Isis didn't. Rishid was the way he always was, but Isis was sad. I made the mistake of thinking that she too was just playing her part, that of the grieving daughter. But Isis really was sad. She actually cared that he had died!" Marik's voice rose as he shouted the last sentence and his fist clenched.

"She knows. I know she knows what he did to me! When I was young I screamed.... There's no way that she could not know, but yet she felt sad for him! Still does even now! Everyday she prays in front of that picture she hung up and every weekend she cries in front of his grave.... I think she does it to taunt me! Or maybe he's doing the taunting. Even death hasn't stopped the shadow of my damned father from hanging over me!" He could feel the skin of his palm break and blood wet his fingertips, but Marik clenched his fist tighter. His pain excited him, and angered him even more.

"I should kill them. That would be fun wouldn't it?!" He laughed, sounding insane. "Both of them for fucking doing this to me! They both know! They've both always known but they taunt me anyways! Aren't I their beloved little brother they only want to help?" He cooed senselessly. He could hear how he sounded and it scared him, but he couldn't stop. He hated them. Hated them all.

"Why would they do this?! If they love me so much, then why would they fucking do this?! _I hate them_!" Marik screamed, enraged. He cursed Rishid, he cursed Isis, he cursed his father, he cursed every god he could think of, and most of all he cursed his pathetic, laughable life. He stormed around the top of the roof and sliced the air around him with his fists, pretending that he was hitting the figures of his damned father and sister and brother and even pretended Bakura was there as well, because he was supposed to be his friend, but yet had forced him to reveal all that he hadn't wanted to. He threw an all out tantrum fit, and when he could scream and yell no more he sank to the ground and wrapped his arms around himself.

He was aware of Bakura coming to sit next to him, but not much else. He felt the coldness of the other teen and hated it. He didn't want Bakura to sit next to him. He didn't want to be by anyone right now, but he didn't want to leave.

"Leave me alone," Marik said pitifully. His voice sounded hoarse and pathetic. For the first time since he'd begun his rant he looked at the other teen on the roof with him. The first thing he noticed was that Bakura bore no perplexed look on his face. He understood. Somehow, he knew that Bakura understood his hatred and his reason for it.

"Well damn Marik, it's about time. Now, why don't you tell everything you just told me to your sister?" Bakura suggested.

"Why bother? She doesn't care," Marik replied listlessly.

"If she didn't care then she wouldn't worry about things like your grades and the fights you get into. Now, I'm no expert but I think it's possible that your sister might not know about the things your father did, especially not if he left her alone. It's also possible that maybe she does know, but she doesn't want to acknowledge that it's true. Either way, you need to tell her what you told me in a calm discussion without any fighting. Once you do that I'm sure everything will be fine," Bakura advised. Marik stayed quiet and thought about what the other had said. Would telling Isis really help? He didn't think so. Surely Isis wouldn't care. She might not even believe what he said if it made their father seem like a monster.

"I doubt it, but I guess at this point I have nothing more to lose," Marik said finally.

"Trust me Marik. Everything will be fine," Bakura said. Marik looked at his lopsided half-smirk, half-smile and it banished away all his fears and insecurities. Somehow a small one of his own found its way to his lips.

"I do," Marik answered softly. He had come to the roof in a horrible, angry mood, but now he felt calmer and more at peace with himself than he could ever remember having felt before. And for the first time he realized that being here up on the roof had nothing to do with it. It was all Bakura. Somehow his strange friend could calm him with just a few words and a look.

00000

Marik followed Bakura's advice. When he returned home later that day he told Isis that he wanted to talk to her. He, Isis, and Rishid had all sat down in the living room and he had explained to them the same thing he'd just earlier told to his friend atop the roof. Isis was horrified. She had immediately gotten up and torn the picture of their deceased father off the wall and broken it in two over her knee.

"There," She'd said as she threw it away with a smile upon her face. "If it means that I can get back the little brother I know and love then I'll happily dispose of this trash." Both Marik and Rishid had stared at her in utter surprise, Marik's jaw practically falling in his lap, and then he had regained his composure and burst out laughing. Already he had felt better.

The three of them had talked longer until Isis had told Marik that he had to go to sleep for school tomorrow. They had talked about their father for some more and Marik had learned that Isis really hadn't been aware of what he had done and felt horrible for it now. It had been exactly as Bakura had predicted. Marik had promised Isis that he would do better at school and stop getting into fights. And when he woke up the next day to go to school it hadn't been bad. He'd gone home and for the first time in little over a month didn't head straight for the roof of that abandoned building, and hadn't gotten into an argument with Isis.

It had been three days since Marik had last gone up to the rooftop. He hadn't gotten angry at all since his talk with Isis or gotten into any fights, so his only reason for going to the abandoned building was to see Bakura. He missed the strange teen with the silver hair, much more than he thought he would after only three days.

"Hey Bakura," He greeted as he climbed up the ladder and went over the ledge. Unfortunately there was no one there to greet him back. The rooftop was empty. There was no Bakura in sight.

"Bakura?" Marik called out again. The other teenager was nowhere in sight. Marik was all alone on the empty rooftop. He stared at the empty space around him, not quite understanding what was going on. Bakura was always here. Even if Marik didn't go to the roof, he just knew that Bakura would be there anyways. It was almost as if Bakura had to be here at the rooftop. Without his presence everything was just wrong.

"Maybe he got sick," Marik mumbled to nobody. Sure, that could be it, but it just didn't seem like the correct reason. After all, his companion had worn that blue and white stripped shirt at the end of winter and hadn't gotten sick then, so why now would he be missing from this scene for that reason?

Marik walked listlessly over to the ledge surrounding the roof and looked down on the people crossing the street and sidewalks below him. In a large pile not too far away from him rested the rocks he and Bakura often threw at those people on the sidewalks. He thought about throwing some of them to give him something to do now, but never moved to pick one up. He couldn't. Not without Bakura. It would just be... strange. Awkward, incorrect.

Marik had once thought that things would be wrong if Bakura ever happened to be absent from the roof. Now he was dismayed to find that he'd been right. Things just weren't right without him. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if he had just come here to relax, but the only reason for his visit was to see Bakura. Now that he wasn't here, Marik had no reason to be either. With one last wistful, forlorn look backwards Marik left the roof, feeling considerably less happy than he had arrived.

00000

For the next week Marik went to the roof everyday, sometimes twice in one day, in hopes of catching Bakura. He was never there. It was almost like the pale, mysterious, silver-haired teenager had never existed. There was no evidence that he had ever even really been there and wasn't just a figment of Marik's imagination, other than the pile of rocks. And even those had been brought to the rooftop by Marik when they had ran out of things that could be thrown on the roof. It was like he had just disappeared off the face of the earth.

Any progress Marik had achieved in building up his grades instantly diminished. How could he be expected to pay attention in class when his only friend, the only person besides Isis and Rishid who knew everything about him, was gone? Isis had casually asked him about his grades one day, probably after receiving some sort of call from a teacher who'd said they weren't good, and he had told her that he was having some difficulty concentrating in class. It was the truth. All day the only thing that occupied Marik's mind was his strange friend and where he could have gone.

How could another person so effectively have taken over his mind? Marik hadn't realized it before when he'd been visiting Bakura everyday, but the other teen was often on his mind. More often that not Marik was thinking of what they could do when school was over and he got to the rooftop and what they could talk about. Now that Bakura was missing from that spot Marik felt strangely empty. People in general bothered Marik, but he could relate to Bakura. They were carved from the same mold. With him missing it was as if a part of Marik was missing as well, and it depressed him. He hadn't realized it before how much he truly relied on Bakura.

It was at school on a Friday afternoon that Marik recalled a piece of information from one of the many conversations he'd had with Bakura that could help him in his search for him. Bakura had once mentioned a brother. He'd said it by accident, because when Marik had tried to question him about this brother further he had remained silent. What he had managed to learn was that this brother of Bakura's was named Ryou. Maybe this brother would be able to tell him what had happened to Bakura.

For the rest of the day Marik had clung onto the hope that maybe if he found this brother he would be able to see Bakura and discover why he had stopped going to the rooftop. Then things would be okay again and he could concentrate on schoolwork and do well for Isis.

The moment he got home from school he logged onto the computer and went to all the school websites he could find in Domino. He searched through all the students enrolled in all the schools he could find for Bakura or Bakura's brother Ryou. Marik never found out the age of this brother or Bakura himself, even with all the talking they had done, so for all he knew this search could be in vain. Both could be older and out of school. And indeed Marik's search appeared as if it was fruitless. So far none of the students in any of the websites he'd looked at had been named Ryou or looked like Bakura, and none of them had been Bakura himself.

There weren't too many schools for him to search through, but what made the activity tiresome was the amount of students he had to search through. In the second to last school he found the person he was looking for: Bakura's brother Ryou.

The teenager looked exactly like Bakura, but much nicer. He had a large smile on his face and a kind, thoughtful expression. He had the same pale skin, silver hair, and brown eyes, but his hair was subdued and not as wild or spiky as Bakura's and his eyes were warm and inviting. Everything about this Ryou person was the opposite of Bakura, but they looked so similar that it was impossible for them to be anything but brothers.

Marik got the number for the school and called the directory. He got Ryou's address and left his house immediately, not bothering to tell Isis where he was going. He thought he knew where the house was. If the address he'd acquired was correct then the house should be near the abandoned building. He shouldn't have to look for it for too long. And maybe if he was lucky Bakura would be there.

Marik ran out of his house. He ran onto the main street of Domino and past the abandoned building. He looked up to the rooftop, hoping to see a flash of silver hair to show him that Bakura was there and everything was right again, but that hope was in vain. So Marik continued on past the building. He stopped running once he had reached the street the house was on, and looked for it. He found it right away and knocked on the door, then waited anxiously, hoping to see Bakura.

He heard footsteps pad up to the door, then it opened and Marik came face to face with Bakura's brother Ryou. They looked so similar that for a moment Marik actually took this person to be Bakura. But no, this face was kind and just a little confused and not at all like the one he was familiar with.

"Hello?" He asked. Even the voice was different. Bakura's was deeper and gruffer than this high, sweet tone.

"Is Bakura home?" Marik asked. He sort of huffed it out because he had yet to regain his breath from running, and while he guessed that he might have sounded threatening because of it, he didn't think that could be the reason why Ryou's face became extremely puzzled and then darkened in something akin to saddened anger.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?" He questioned darkly. Marik was taken aback.

"No, I just wanted to know if Bakura was-"

"Bakura is dead."

For a moment everything ceased to move and Marik forgot to breath. Bakura was...?

"Wh-what?" Marik asked, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Bakura died almost a year ago now," Ryou repeated. "Didn't you know that?" Marik shook his head. He felt like he needed to sit down suddenly. The world felt like it was spinning. Bakura...

"I-I'm sorry. I must not have know. I... I was friends with him at school and I moved away for a while. My family and I moved back and I thought... I thought I would...," Marik heard his own voice say this excuse but he didn't realize he had said anything at all. He felt strangely detached from his body.

"I see. I'm sorry for acting so harshly. Would you like to come in for a bit? You look terribly pale," Ryou offered. The anger had faded from his voice to be replaced with a deep sadness he tried to mask with polite speech. Somehow Marik managed to form what he hoped was a reassuring smile and shook his head.

"No thanks. I'll be fine. I'm just... a little shocked is all," Marik shakily smiled. He stiffly bid the nice teenager goodbye and left. Immediately the information he'd learned unmercifully assaulted his poor brain and he raised his hands to his head and clutched his golden locks.

Bakura.... Bakura was... dead... and in his grave for almost a year now? That was what Ryou had told him, but how could it be true when Marik had last seen him a little over a week ago? It couldn't be, and yet why would Ryou lie about that and wear that look of utter sadness? There was no way to fake the emotion in those deep brown eyes and on that pretty face. And now that he thought about it, it would explain why Bakura always wore the same clothes, always was so cold to the touch...

No! Marik gripped his head tighter. There was no way that Bakura could be dead! If he was, then what was Marik talking to?! What did he spend his time with, and what did he feel these emotions of happiness and calm, worry and depression for?! Some kind of a ghost?! Was he really supposed to believe that?! Ghosts didn't exist!

"I'm going crazy!" Marik whispered to himself, and then to only make it all worse he felt like giggling. He fought against the overpowering urge to laugh and gave into it. It started out as sporadic giggles and then became full-blown crazy laughter. He laughed as he walked down the street, still clutching his head, and people looked at him and moved away as if he carried the plague. He saw the scared and frightened looks he was the cause of, and knew that they all probably thought him to be insane. He wanted to yell at them and tell them to stop looking at him like that, but no matter how angry Marik felt he could not cease his raving laughter.

It was all so funny, so horribly funny, and he could not stop.

00000

Marik told himself it didn't matter. For most of his life he'd never been friends with his peers. He was nice and polite to them, but none had ever achieved that elusive friendship status. So it didn't matter if the one person he had managed to become close enough to consider a friend was actually dead. He'd never had friends before, and he didn't need them now, so it didn't matter in the slightest.

That, at least, was what Marik tried to tell himself. He tried to make himself realize that Bakura didn't matter, and that the only reason Marik had needed him around was because he had felt a little lonely and had wanted someone to complain about his problems to. Now he didn't have any problems, so he didn't need Bakura. So why then did he feel all the more lonely now than ever?

Every day after school Marik walked home instead of riding his bus, and every day he passed that abandoned building. Everyday he gave the roof a wistful glance to see if even a strand of familiar silver hair could be seen, every day in vain. Bakura was gone. Dead, like Ryou had said. And if it was possible that Marik had somehow seen and talked to his ghost, that spirit had vanished now. And Marik desperately wished it would return.

At school he couldn't help unbidden thoughts of Bakura from entering his head, and at night when he lie awake after trying unsuccessfully to sleep, the thoughts came again, stronger now, and different than before. At school Marik felt that Bakura was nothing more than a friend of his, one he missed, but at night those feelings were amplified into a fervent longing to see the mysterious spirit again. The dark of the night revealed his true intentions and emotions as night after night if he did manage to sleep Marik's dreams were filled with wild visions of bronze skin clashing delectably against creamy, milky white in a pile of tangled limbs, and silver hair, always silver hair, fistfuls of that beautiful, soft, silver hair, and full, pale, rosy pink lips.

Marik woke from these dreams covered in sweat and clutching his pounding heart as he frantically tried to calm himself and convince himself that his dreams meant nothing and he certainly did _not_ feel anything like that toward Bakura, even as the passionate moans and cries from his dream still echoed in his ears and the lower part of his body ached. Bakura had been his friend, and now not even that mattered because he was dead and had been for quite some time.

And still, as he tried to make himself believe this, Marik could not help but think back to that day on the roof with Bakura after he had gotten into a fight at school and had received a bruised cheek for it. That day.... Something had happened then, something had transpired between the two of them, something that would make these dreams all make sense. That day on the roof the two of them had been so close to each other, so close, and Marik guessed that it would have looked like the they were leaning in for a kiss. But... Bakura had pulled away at the last minute and he had felt... what? Marik didn't know. He remembered Bakura's anger and his own hurt at that anger being directed toward him, and he remembered very clearly his confusion, but what else had he felt?

This night was different from no others in that Marik had gone to sleep at night thinking of Bakura, and missing him, and had awoken from dreaming about him, body uncomfortably sensitive, missing him even more. Marik pitifully cursed the fiendish spirit for causing him to experience these unwanted feelings and then for leaving and making him feel like there was a gaping hole in his life.

"Bakura...." Without even noticing he had said the name, Marik left his bed and stood up. The need to see Bakura seemed particularly strong tonight, and Marik felt more lonesome now than he ever had. He silently dressed and crept out of the house without alerting Isis or Rishid. He hadn't gone to the rooftop since that one horrible day when he'd first realized Bakura was absent from it. Now he would return there.

The moment Marik was free from his house he burst into a fast sprint. He needed to go to the rooftop. He felt that now, if he hurried, he would somehow meet Bakura there, could somehow see him once again, and then he could finally fill in that gaping hole the disappearance of his precious friend had left in him, and sort out his other feelings as well. He ran, faster then he had before, aware that he was working harder for this than anything he ever had.

He grabbed onto the ladder leading up to the roof and practically flew up it. His feet reached the last rung and Marik pulled his slender body over the ledge and stood there, silent but for his heavy breathing, widened lavender eyes searching the vicinity around him for something, anything. He saw nothing. Of course not, Marik thought dejectedly, why would Bakura be here now? He was dead right? If that had been his spirit, why would it come now just to talk to him? Marik almost laughed. Why had he even come here? Because of some stupid thought that maybe, just maybe, if he hoped enough, Bakura would be here? How stupid of him.

Marik turned to leave. There wasn't any point in staying here longer now. He had almost taken that first step back when he saw a flash of silver from the corner of his eye. Marik lifted his head slowly. Likely, it wasn't anything. Just a trick of the light or his imagination. There was no point in getting his hopes up again. But Marik looked anyways, and he gasped as in front of him was the beautiful sight of Bakura.

"Bakura!" Marik cried out happily. He almost ran to the other figure. But.... His brow furrowed. Something was wrong. Bakura was acting strangely. The other teenager was standing opposite Marik near the ledge of the roof. His silvery mane of hair blocked his eyes from Marik's vision, but from the direction his head was facing those eyes would have been looking down at the street. He didn't respond to Marik in any sort of way, or even acknowledge his presence.

"Bakura?" Marik questioned, much quieter and almost subdued. Again Bakura didn't respond, didn't even move in the lightest, just ignored him fully and completely. It was wrong. Bakura wouldn't just ignore him like this. Something was out of place here.

Marik watched the figure of the slim, pale teen intently. He didn't bother to say anything else. Bakura wouldn't hear him. Instead he watched the other as he stared down at the street underneath the roof of the building. Bakura's silver hair and stripped blue and white shirt rippled in what must have been the wind, though nothing tussled Marik's golden locks.

Bakura's still silhouette, which had been completely motionless only moments ago, suddenly moved. Without his knowledge, Marik unconsciously moved with him. For every step the silent, slim, ivory-skinned teen took, Marik took one also. Bakura's silent steps took him closer to the ledge, and Marik watched, completely absorbed by the graceful, flowing movements the other made. He remembered once thinking of Bakura as some sort of elusive creature, and now he couldn't help but think the same thing. The only difference was that now, under the moonlight and the stars, Bakura's hair was a silver white, and his already pale skin was a pearly luminescent marble color. He was beautiful. Strange that he chose now to realize that.

Bakura moved again, and Marik heart sped up rapidly. This was wrong. He had known it was wrong, but now the entire wrongness of this situation screamed at him and fear blossomed in his chest. The beautiful, graceful creature in front of him was now standing on the ledge of the roof, always looking down. The trance Marik had been in before when watching Bakura broke and he rushed forward.

"Bakura!" Bakura still didn't respond to his yelling or notice it in any way. That non-existent wind blew fiercely, and finally moved silver hair away from chestnut eyes. Marik's heart leapt into his throat. Those eyes were focused solely on the street.

"Bakura!" Again no response.

"BAKURA!" Another flash of silver and now Bakura was gone. But he hadn't just disappeared. He had walked off the ledge.

Marik ran to the ledge and gripped it so tightly his knuckled turned white and the rough brick surface of the ledge cut into his palms. Bakura! Bakura was down there! He...! Marik hesitated. He didn't want to see beautiful Bakura, splattered somewhere on the street with crimson blood ruining that precious silver hair and gazing upward with glassy russet eyes. He didn't want to, but Marik couldn't stop himself from looking over the ledge. He opened his eyes slowly, and saw nothing.

There was no eagle-spread angelic figure lying on the sidewalk. There were no gory blood splatters and screaming coming from the few people out at this time. There was... nothing. No body. No screaming or blood. Nothing at all.

"Oh come on Marik. You understand don't you? I know you talked to Ryou. I know you know." Marik spun around and came face to face with the person he expected to see in a bloody mess on the sidewalk gazing at him through half-lidded eyes and smirking bitterly.

For a minute Marik didn't understand. He only stood still staring at Bakura and not understanding the situation. Then comprehension dawned on his features and his opened mouth closed and his eyes softened. Bakura... he was dead... wasn't he? It really was true then. What he had just seen...

"That was how you died." Bakura smiled. For the first time since Marik had known him, Bakura truly smiled, and it was so infused with pain, wistful envy, and bitter understanding that it was beautiful and hideous.

"Correct. That was how I died a year ago on this very day," Bakura agreed.

"Why?" Marik asked. He had so many other questions, but that was the one that was most important. The one he needed to know the answer to.

"I was bored," Bakura answered truthfully, shrugging casually for such a serious subject. "Life didn't interest me anymore, and I wanted to know what else there was." He turned around slowly, and crossed his arms to his chest. "You know, I realized afterwards that this is only a two-story building. I should have been fine. Injured of course, but alive. I guess I was just lucky and landed the right way."

"'Lucky?' You call this _lucky_?! You're dead you idiot!" Marik yelled. Bakura spun back around to look at him. Marik clenched his fist to keep his arm from shaking and glared at Bakura. For a moment Bakura's calm composure slipped and the only thing that shone on his face was surprise, then it fell completely and his brown eyes blazed as his mouth twisted into a snarl.

"You think I don't know that?" He growled as he clenched his own fist.

"Stupid.... You're so stupid...," Marik's voice lost most of its anger as he lowered his eyes. He didn't want to look at Bakura anymore. "Stupid..." How could he do something like that? Because he was bored?! And now... now...! ...Now Marik didn't know what to do. Even after he'd learned it from Ryou, as long as he hadn't been completely sure he had been able to believe that it wasn't true, and that Bakura was alive and fine, and everything would be okay. But now... faced with the truth... it wasn't okay, was it? It was all...

"Marik?" He heard Bakura call his name a little apprehensively, and Marik raised his head angrily.

"Oh shut up! Like you even _care_ you idiot! Do you care at all?! Did you care when you decided to do something so stupid?! Do you really care about me?! Or how about Ryou?! He's your brother right? Do you care about what he's feeling?!" Marik demanded bitterly.

"Of course I care! And do you really think that I haven't thought about what this decision has done to others?! I've been up here for a year now Marik. I've thought about a lot of things during that time," Bakura said mockingly. Marik shook his head slowly. His small outburst had drained him. He felt so tired all of a sudden. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted to go back home and sleep and just forget all about this and about Bakura.

"Whatever. I should just go," He said tiredly. He put a hand on his head and turned away from Bakura. He wished he hadn't gone up here today, or ever for that matter. The fights he'd had with his family were nothing compared to this mess.

"Don't go." It wasn't the soft, almost afraid way the words were spoken, but the emotion in Bakura's voice that made Marik stop. Before he had heard only anger and masked envy, but now he heard the desperation and the loneliness in that voice. Marik turned and saw Bakura gazing at him intently with liquid chocolate eyes. The rest of his face remained hidden behind an emotionless mask, but he couldn't block the emotion in those eyes from showing. For the first time it was Bakura who had revealed too much of himself instead of Marik, and he was so fascinated by this that he forgot about any fatigue he felt.

Ever since the first moment Marik had come to the roof he had felt that confident air Bakura seemed to carry about his person, as if he could do nothing wrong and never doubted himself once he had made a decision. He felt it all the more so whenever he had lashed out in frustration and fury and Bakura merely stayed annoyingly calm the entire length of the fit. But now for the first time Marik saw that calm, confident facade shatter and utterly fall apart to reveal that Bakura was immensely lonely. Which made perfect sense, if it was true that he had been up here on this rooftop for a year now...

Marik felt a wave of pity overcome him. Pity for this sad, lonely spirit and pity for himself and the situation both of them found themselves in. It was pathetic really.

"I won't," Marik answered simply. Bakura didn't thank him for staying and Marik didn't expect that he would. He didn't expect the other teen to do anything, but he saw the gratitude in the other's eyes none the less. And that was good enough.

Marik walked to the ledge that just not too long ago he had seen the ghostly vision of the once-alive Bakura throw himself over and tiredly collapsed to the ground. He bent his head back to look at the velvet black sky and sighed. He heard Bakura's soft footfalls as he joined him on the ground and felt the constant wave of cold that accompanied him. But of course now Marik knew why the other was always so cold.

"I guess that must be why this building is abandoned," Marik mumbled.

"Hmm?" Bakura asked from beside him. Marik shook his head.

"Nothing. So you've been here for a year?" He asked conversely, still keeping his eyes on the stars. He couldn't leave. Not when Bakura was so open and lonely, but that didn't mean he forgave him for doing what he had done to get himself up here in the first place. Not when it pained him so much. "Shouldn't you have gone to the world beyond by now?"

"Ha!" Bakura barked, "I wish!" He quieted and became serious suddenly. Marik could feel eyes on him, but he didn't turn to grant Bakura the comfort of knowing he was listening.

"Some religions consider it a sin to take your own life," He started. "I think that's a load of bullshit but I am still here so maybe it carries some weight. For whatever reason, I'm barred from going wherever it is that I should be. I've tried to get there before but the doors are closed to me. I used to think maybe those religions were actually right, but now the more I've been down here the more I've begun to think it's not because I killed myself, but why. I was bored with my life and wanted to see what else there was. So I off myself and as punishment I get stuck on the rooftop where I did the deed with only a limited amount of people who can see me. Ironic isn't it? I suppose someone finds it all to be hilarious."

Marik didn't say anything because he didn't know what to make of it all. He heard Bakura's voice grow louder and angrier and fill with venom and he knew this was a personal subject for him, but he didn't have any input for it. So he continued his silent watching until a thought struck him.

"Then I'm not the only person who has been able to see you?" Marik questioned, half-interested.

"Correct. There have been others," Bakura commented.

"Have you talked to them also?" Marik asked, now very interested. It was stupid, but even before he'd known that Bakura was dead and a ghost he had felt like he was the only one who knew Bakura, and that had made him feel special. Now that he knew there had been others and that there was a possibility that they too could have talked to Bakura, Marik felt... jealous? Was he really jealous? He snorted silently to himself and with a small shake of his head he kept his thoughtful lavender eyes firmly planted on the stars. It couldn't be jealousy, he reasoned, because he didn't care. Bakura was allowed to converse with whomever he wanted.

"No. I usually scared the shit out of them or I didn't show myself to them if I didn't feel like it. They were all just stupid kids coming to get a glimpse of the ghost. None of them were ever half as interesting as you," Bakura commented, chuckling lowly. Marik spun around, finally taking his widened eyes off the night sky and focusing solely on Bakura. The pale teenager was looking at him with a sexy, sly grin and for a moment Marik was left speechless and felt his cheeks grow hot. He gulped.

"You think I'm interesting?" He asked. He hated the way his voice sounded so high-pitched and weak. Just like a stupid teenage girl's would if she were talking to the boy she liked. He would have to change that. But Marik was unable to regain his composure with Bakura still looking at him like that.

"Of course," Bakura practically purred, "Since the first day I saw you I had thought you were interesting, and I hadn't even talked to you yet. The very first time I saw you, you had walked past my building about seven months after I had died. I immediately noticed you and wanted to talk to you. Of course I couldn't leave the rooftop, so I was more than a little surprised to see you up here one day. And when I got the chance to talk to you I found out that you were even more interesting that I had first thought."

Marik's cheeks heated up even more and he hoped that Bakura couldn't see his blush because of his tan skin, but when he heard Bakura continue his low, growl-like laughter he thought that that hope had been in vain. Marik frowned slightly and shook his head to rid him of any troubling thoughts and concentrated on moving the subject to something else.

"Can Ryou see you?" He asked. The moment he asked the question Bakura's sexy smirk vanished and was replaced by a vaguely troubled black expression. Marik wondered if this subject was also personal.

"Ryou doesn't know I'm here," Bakura answered stiffly.

"Why?" Marik wondered.

"I don't want him to know. Ryou's had a hard time dealing with all this, and if he knew I were stuck here instead of off in some better place he'd come here every day to see me and try to make me happy. And I don't want to be the reason behind his misery any more than I have to. As sad as Ryou may be now, he'd be much worse off spending all his time here with me," Bakura explained harshly and stubbornly, like he was expecting some kind of argument against this view point.

Marik was silently stunned by his devotion to his brother. He had known Bakura for a while now, but obviously he was nowhere near close enough to really know Bakura. Tonight had proven that much already, and now that fact was being shoved in his face again. Marik had never seen Bakura so fiercely active before as he was now when he had just talked about his brother, and that saddened him and again made him jealous. So Bakura cared about what Ryou felt and how he would be affected by knowing that he was here, but he could care less about Marik's own feelings, was that it?

Marik felt a pang of envy towards Ryou. He wanted Bakura to care about him, and how he felt. Why? He didn't know why, but he knew what he wanted. Why was Ryou so special? He was Bakura's brother, sure, but what made him exempt from having to experience the pain of wanting something you couldn't have like Marik had to? Why was Ryou so much more special? Why wasn't Marik special? Why?

"Oh," Marik replied quietly looking away from Bakura.

"Did I say something wrong?" Bakura asked. Marik almost looked back up at him. Was he really so pathetic that he couldn't hide what he was feeling from entering his voice? He'd always been able to with Isis and Rishid. Was Bakura really so important that he rendered Marik's ability to hide his true emotions useless? Why had he ever gotten this close? It was all so confusing.

"No. Of course not," Marik mumbled. He was pathetic to become so depressed because of something so trivial, but he felt tired and worn out again. He didn't want to deal with this.

"You can't lie to me Marik. And if you're going to try you might as well act a little more convincing," Bakura said a bit sarcastically.

"I was just wondering why I had been stupid enough to ever get so involved with you," Marik sighed. Bakura gave him a questioning look and he complied with it and elaborated his sentence.

"Why didn't I just accept your disappearance and move on instead of moping? Why are you the first person I've actually wanted to know? Why aren't you just another person to me Bakura?" Marik asked, not so much to the person at his side watching him intently, but to himself. He wanted to know why he felt like this, and why he was saddened so much by all the things he had learned tonight.

"What are you talking about?" Bakura asked, puzzled. Marik threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Why do you care about Ryou so much? Why is he exempt from feeling the pain of knowing that you're here and can be talked to, but that you're not actually alive? Why is he so special? Why can't I be like that? Why can't I be special?" Through his small rant Marik's voice grew louder and angrier, but then it fell drastically, and the last sentence had been so quiet it was hardly audible. But Bakura had heard and now he was looking at Marik strangely. Feeling self-conscious, Marik lowered his outstretched arms and hid his troubled eyes behind the fringe of his golden bangs and curled his legs up to his chest. He didn't want Bakura to look at him anymore. Not when he was so weak.

He felt the freezing cold touch of Bakura's hand on his shoulder. Even with the warm spring air he still couldn't help but shiver the moment he felt that icy hand touch him. He knew Bakura was trying to comfort him, but right now it just felt like pity. Marik shook the hand off.

"Don't," He said sternly. Bakura said nothing, and so they sat in complete silence with only the quiet sounds of Domino city and the slow moving wind to break it.

"Why did you leave anyways?" Marik questioned tiredly, only because he wanted to break the tense silence and not for any real interest. The quiet made thinking easy and Marik didn't want to think, he wanted to listen. He didn't have answers to his questions.

"I wanted you to leave me alone," Bakura answered bluntly. Marik waited for him to say more, but nothing ever came. He squeezed his legs to his chest and felt even worse for himself. Was this the answer to his question? Marik wasn't special because Bakura just wanted him to leave? Marik raised his head to look at Bakura, who was gazing at him so intently with those beautifully deep brown eyes, and smiled.

"You could have told me that you know," He said, trying to joke. He kept his voice light-hearted and prevented any pain from entering it. His smile widened and he even managed a half-convincing laugh.

"Marik, it's not that I didn't want to see you. I did, and that's what made it dangerous. I'm dead. I have been for a year now. Even if I'm here, I'm not really, am I? Ryou's my little brother, but don't assume that he's the only person I care about because he's not. I do... care for you Marik, and that's why I wanted you to leave me alone. You... are special. That's why you should have thought I'd gone and accepted that. But instead you had to go looking for me, and now both of us are miserable," Bakura said. Marik's eyes widened and his false smile fell.

"Y-You care?" He asked in surprise.

"Yeah I care. Unfortunately for both of us, I care," Bakura said almost angrily. He frowned and got to his feet. Now those conflicted dark brown eyes were hidden behind long silver locks of hair. "I had to fucking care. And now look at all of this!"

Marik jumped to his feet. He felt so confused. First he thought that Bakura didn't care about him, and now he found out that he did, but Bakura was angry? It didn't make any sense. What was wrong? He just wanted to make sense of all this and get some answers, not more questions.

"Bakura?" He questioned tentatively. He reached out to touch the cold spirit but now he was the one whose hand was pushed away angrily.

"You should just leave Marik. And not come back. Your life is fine now isn't it? I helped you, so you don't need to come up here anymore. Just go home to you sister and brother and forget all about this rooftop and me. Leave and don't come back Marik," Bakura said indifferently.

"No!" Marik yelled. He grabbed Bakura by his shoulders and felt his hands freeze and his body shiver because of the sudden cold, but he kept his hold on the other teen and looked him straight in the eye. Bakura glared at him. Marik didn't care. He didn't care if he made Bakura angry, he wanted some damn answers!

"I'm not leaving! I like you Bakura! I really like you, and I'll be damned if I just leave you here to rot on top of this building!" Marik shouted.

"'Rot?' That's what my body is doing, not me. I'm dead you idiot! Your feelings don't matter! If I didn't bother to make myself corporal you wouldn't even be able to touch me or see me! So what do any feelings that you have for me matter?! You can't love someone who's dead, stupid," Bakura remarked, snarling bitterly.

"I don't care! I don't care if you're dead or alive! As long as I know you're here then I don't want to leave. Don't make me leave Bakura," Marik pleaded softly. He released his grip on Bakura's shoulders and prayed that the spirit would react well. He saw Bakura's expression soften, then a pained look came onto his face.

"Why would you want to stay here? Even if I do stay corporal, every time we touch you shiver. And even if you can see me, I can't leave this roof. Why would you want that? What kind of a relationship would that be? Let's be realistic here," Bakura argued softly. Marik shook his head and smiled faintly.

"I don't care. I don't want to be realistic then," He said simply.

"And what if it comes time for me to leave? If my stay here is some sort of punishment, it won't last forever. Eventually I will leave this place."

"Then I'll be happy for you. As long as you wait for me."

Bakura rolled his eyes quickly, then that sexy, evil smirk of his Marik loved replaced that out of place look of uncertainty and Marik's soft smile stretched into a large grin. Bakura placed his icy hands on Marik's cheeks and brought their faces close together.

"A cute catch like you? Of course I'll wait," He smirked, then closed the gap keeping their lips apart. Their frigid kiss was passionate and full of intense feelings. Marik shivered, not from the cold of Bakura's freezing body embracing him, but because it was perfect and he was happy.

* * *

Yosh! It's done! Cha!!! I'm happy now. Please tell me that you loved it! Because I really really do. I think it's adorably cute, and dare I say that I did improve my writing a bit? Two little things to say before you review hopefully, because of course I can't go without talking.

Okay, first, can you actually call a school directory and find out where a student's address is? I dunno, I think I read it once in some book, but it seems like something like that would be very unsafe to me. You know, you could like, give out an address to a stalker or murderer or something.

Second thing, for those of you that read my ficcy _Blood Is Thicker_, I am working on that. I'm not really close to finishing chapter six, but hey, it's a start right? So continue to wait patiently, and I'll get it done eventually. Thanks!

Well, hope you all enjoyed this, and I would love a review to tell me how I did! Thank you!


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